29 September 2005 | 11:41 a.m.

"Napoleon, don't be jealous that I've been chatting online with babes all day. Besides, we both know that I'm training to be a cage fighter."

My head hurts. I�ve been busily working for the past three hours. Okay, so I took some time off to read a few diaries, but still, I was mostly working. Yet again, Hub has put the business in the red by doing all these jobs and not billing them out. I�ve been getting on his ass about it since last week and yesterday he finally wrote them out. WTF?

I could go on and on about him, but it�s all �same shit, different day�. Like, the �no drivers under 23� rule with the commercial insurance policy? How many times have I been through this since April? Like, eleventy bajillion or so? And yet again, he wanted an underage driver to drive his truck because it wasn�t convenient for him to do so. I was pissed when he told me that�s what he was going to do. Like so pissed that I was all calm and shit (�Why don�t you just go to sleep?�-Eddie M). Let�s just talk about what�s more inconvenient: DIVORCE.

That, and the money thing, and the fact that he still doesn�t ask for down payments at all, and he still doesn�t do the proposals as he should, which results in people not paying or arguing about the bill.

Lather, rinse, repeat. Repeat until scalp rots off, I guess. He just doesn�t get it. Never will. Well, maybe when I�m fucking gone he�ll get it. Which, if this shit keeps up, is going to happen. And if he lets someone underage drive that truck and there�s an accident and the insurance won�t pay it? That is it for me. Convenient or not, there will be a legal separation involved.

It�s just so. Fucking. Tedious. Which is why I haven�t written about him much lately. I could just link to all kinds of older entries. It�s just the same old, same old. And people wonder why I�m always in the drinking. Self-medication, my friends, courtesy of Anheiser-Busch. He keeps bragging about how he�s not working this weekend, which is good because we have Daisy and it�ll be nice not be to be stuck with the �We Need Fucking Ritalin� Hyper-spaz Crew all by myself. But it�s also not good because I�ll be spending large amounts of time with him. Lord, send me a 20 pack.

Five paragraphs! How can I have written five friggin� paragraphs about the exact subject I was trying to avoid?

How the hell did I miss the death of Gilligan? I didn�t know until yesterday? The day before? Whatever. How did I miss it when it happened? I guess I was more upset about not going to Aruba. Anyway. I�m sorry, but Vin Diesel is not his kid and that rumor is retarded. In the words of my new favorite Mexican, Carlos Mencia, �dee dee dee�.

Anyway. Ya know how the Skipper used to call Gilligan �Little Buddy�? This reminds me of English class my junior year in high school. This is where I met my friend Lisa, we sat next to each other in class. This other kid, Randy, sat right in front of us. Me and Lisa were always ranking on everyone, that�s just what we did. I mean, Lisa and I used to go to the mall and sit on a bench and just tear people up because of what they were wearing or how awful their hair was. Shut up, you did/do it, too. It was all in good fun.

Well, Randy couldn�t handle it when we ranked on him. Soon, it was war between Lisa and I and Randy. We found out his real name wasn�t �Randall� but �Bertrand�. Sorry, but we couldn�t resist that one, especially when we found out the kid hated the name.

So, about halfway through the school year, Randy had all he could take. His girlfriend Danielle (shit, maybe I should change these names? Ah, fuck it) wrote me a note telling me and my �little buddy� to knock it off. Au contraire, tu douche bag!

We fucking giggled our asses off behind Randy every day after that. When Lisa walked into class, I�d say really loudly, �Hey, Little Buddy!�. We�d always correct each other when we�d say something about �Bert�, and say, �Watch out, we might get another mean note from the one who wears the pants!�. We were awful. I probably fucked up a whole bunch of karma just in that class alone. It wasn�t like Randy was some nerdy geek or anything. He was just a regular kid who couldn�t handle a fucking joke.

Anyway, for the rest of the time that Lisa and I were friends, I always referred to her as �Little Buddy�. Just like the Skipper and Gilligan.

Oh and I�m so dumb. His name was Bob Denver, yet I keep calling him Gilligan. I also totally dug that beatnik Maynard G. Krebs, man, so why don�t I call him that? He was one cool pre-hippie freak. (Young people who have no idea what the fuck I�m talking about, he was on a show called �Dobie Gillis� (okay, the title was longer, but that�s all I remember of it at the moment) back in the days when TV was still in black and white.

Yeah, I so grew up on re-runs. Because when I was a kid, we had ten channels, basically. How did we live? I�ll tell you how. By watching old tv shows that were cancelled seven years before we were born. Old folks, remember watching whatever was on prime time the night before and talking about it with your friends at school the next day, and EVERYONE had watched it? Like �Three�s Company� or �Mork and Mindy�? Does that happen with school kids now that there�s like a million channels? Like walking uphill to school both ways, I guess those days are over.

Okay. This chick is out of here for now.

Peace out, yo.


Listening to: Fallout Boy "Sugar We're Going Down"

Currently reading: "Guilty As Sin" Tami Hoag

Thinking about: Lunchie poo.